


'tis the damn season

by VioletHaze



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 Mid-Winter 5k, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Small Towns, inspired by the taylor swift song of the same name, mention of dean/others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28617957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHaze/pseuds/VioletHaze
Summary: Cas wanders the perimeter of his childhood bedroom, running his fingers over the spines of his favorite books, smoothing down the flipped corner of a long ago hung poster. Pulling up the blind, he looks out over the snow-covered yard illuminated by the street light. He remembers seeing Dean there, standing in jeans and a t-shirt on a hot summer night, rocking on the balls of his feet after tossing pebbles at Cas’s window. Waiting for Cas to tiptoe his way down the stairs, holding his shoes and his breath as he slipped out the back door.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 62
Kudos: 264
Collections: Dean/Cas Tropefest 2021 Mid-Winter 5k





	'tis the damn season

**Author's Note:**

> I love, love, LOVE the Tropefest 5k. I honestly think it's led to some of my best writing over the years, so I was thrilled to see it (unlike finale!Dean) rise from the dead. Thank you to Muse and Jojo for bringing it back.
> 
> Special thanks to Nat and Ri for the beta read and to Lauren for always being there to discuss Taylor Swift songs with me. This one is inspired by her song of the same name. You can listen to it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuvhOD-mP8M).

It’s late afternoon when Cas steps through the arrivals door, the long day of travel not over yet. He finds his mother standing alone waiting and she greets him with a warm hug. She looks better than the last time he saw her, her smile less hollow.

This close to the end of the year, the days are short and Cas offers to drive them the nearly ninety minutes home from the airport. To his surprise--and a tiny bit to his concern--she agrees. It’s a quiet drive, broken by bits of comfortable conversation, but they talk frequently enough that Cas doesn’t have a whole lot to catch her up on.

By the time they reach the outskirts of town, everything is familiar even in the pitch dark. The same Christmas decorations have been affixed to the light posts in the small business district, candy canes and stockings alternating. A number of storefronts have outlined their windows with twinkling lights and, as always, the big evergreen in the town square is laden with oversized ornaments, a large star gleaming unwaveringly from the top.

A few people are out and about, finishing their holiday shopping despite the winter chill. They’re bundled in hats and coats, stepping carefully along the shoveled but still slippery sidewalks. Cas would probably recognize most of them, if he could see their faces. It’s that kind of town.

The first time Cas came home from college, this town felt like it was suffocating him, the predictability and monotony of it tightening around him like a too-thick scarf. He’d finally freed himself, gone away to school where he could be anonymous in a sea of students, a chance to be whoever he wanted without people assuming they knew everything about him just from knowing his name.

Now, five years later, Cas finds a nostalgic comfort in the unchanging small town, the downtown nestled along the curve of the river, the gentle hillside dotted with homes and churches. Every street he drives is layered with memories of growing up here. Some he cherishes, some he wishes he could forget.

It’s the first Christmas since his father died and, even though it’s been nearly a year since they buried him, the loss feels raw nonetheless. Neither of them mention it until Cas turns down their street and the house comes into view, the windows etched in clear white lights as they have been each and every year.

“You got the lights up,” he says, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

Naomi smiles gently at the sight. “Dean came by and offered to do the ones Anna and I couldn’t reach.”

Of course he did. That’s Dean in a nutshell: always there to pick up the pieces Cas leaves scattered behind like so much gravel on an icy road.

“It looks nice,” Cas says as he pulls the car into the garage. He undoes his seatbelt, but his mother sits a moment longer and when he turns to her, she puts a hand to his face.

“Things will be a little different this year,” she says before moving her hand to smooth his hair. “But it’ll be okay.”

Cas dips his head, not wanting to be treated like a child. Also, it lets him swallow around the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“I’m glad you’re home, honey.” His mother at last begins to get out of the car.

Cas tries for a laugh. “Where else would I be?” He takes a little extra time getting his suitcase and backpack from the trunk. It rarely gets this cold where he lives, and it never snows. The sky is so dark here, an entire sea of stars glittering bright and cold high overhead.

Inside, Anna is waiting and she flings her arms around him. “You’re home!”

He hugs her tightly. “Couldn’t be bothered to come pick me up, huh?”

She tosses her hair and rolls her eyes, a perfectly smooth combination of actions honed by many, many repetitions over the years. “ _Some_ of us still have school.”

“You’re a senior. Time to stop working so hard.”

Anna gestures to their mother. “Tell _her_ that.”

“If I recall, we couldn’t get you to take it easy, Castiel. Not even once you’d gotten your college acceptances.”

Cas smiles and concedes the point. He’d been so desperate to get out of here. Shrugging, he tries, “Do as I say not as I do?”

“Did you eat, Anna?”

“I did. And now I’m going to finish my calculus.” She stops and puts on her sweetest smile. “Unless you want to do it for me, Cas?”

“I would, but I’m extremely jet-lagged.” He sticks his tongue out at her and she, checking that Naomi’s back is turned, flips him off. He makes wide eyes of mock surprise and pretends he’s going to tattle.

With Anna gone, Naomi turns back to him. “Are you hungry? I’m sure they didn’t give you anything worth eating on the plane.”

“A little,” he admits. He’s perfectly capable of feeding himself, he’s done it for years, but every time he comes home he finds himself equal parts resentful of being treated like a child and indulging in acting like one.

“Go put your things away,” she tells him. “I’ll fix you a plate.”

Cas wanders the perimeter of his childhood bedroom, running his fingers over the spines of his favorite books, smoothing down the flipped corner of a long ago hung poster. Pulling up the blind, he looks out over the snow-covered yard illuminated by the street light. He remembers seeing Dean there, standing in jeans and a t-shirt on a hot summer night, rocking on the balls of his feet after tossing pebbles at Cas’s window. Waiting for Cas to tiptoe his way down the stairs, holding his shoes and his breath as he slipped out the back door.

He sleeps late the next morning, even given the time change. All the sounds of home blur together to create a cocoon of white noise: his mother emptying the dishwasher, the creak and tap of windblown branches outside, Anna’s light footsteps up and down the stairs, the marked absence of his father’s deep rumble. By the time he’s up and showered and has eaten something, half the day is gone.

“I think I’m gonna go for a walk,” he says.

“It’s cold,” Naomi says, like Cas can’t see the snow on everything. “Did you bring gloves because there are some in--”

“I did,” Cas assures her, trying not to bristle. “A hat, too.”

With a lilt to her voice, Anna merely says, “Say hi to Dean.”

He sets out, snow crunching under his boots. The cold air is a shock to his lungs but he knows he’ll warm as he walks. Few of the houses in his neighborhood have changed hands since he graduated high school; this place doesn't attract a lot of new people. Cas was one of the rare ones who left the state--much less the region--for college.

He walks the streets of his childhood, passing the elementary school where he and Dean met, the silent baseball fields where they played as children. He passes the community swimming pool where they spent hot summer days, Dean’s hair sun-kissed nearly blonde, water dripping off his freckled skin, green eyes crinkled with laughter. It was there that twelve-year-old Cas first realized he was different from everyone else, something it would take him a few more years to name.

He stops walking at an empty lot, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets. Senior year, he and Dean had engaged in an epic snowball battle here, culminating in Dean smacking him square in the face with a snowball that exploded into powder. Cas had charged him then, gratified to see Dean switch from doubled-over laughter to wide-eyed terror in a split second. Cas tackled him, a snowbank softening their landing. It was reckless, Cas knew, to put himself in such close proximity to Dean. He chanced letting his best friend know his deepest secret, the one that made him so desperate to escape the prison of this small town. Still, with so many layers between them, Cas figured he’d allow himself these scant seconds, maybe dropping a glove full of snow down the neck of Dean’s jacket before Dean scrabbled free and continued their fight.

Instead, Dean lay there, letting Cas pin him, with something in his eyes that looked almost like a challenge. Cas froze in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature, and the moment drew out, the frosty clouds of their breath meeting and mingling between them in a way Cas wasn’t brave enough to do otherwise.

“You make my life very difficult,” Cas finally said. He climbed off Dean and called for a truce, busying himself by brushing the snow off his jeans so he wouldn't have to meet Dean’s eyes, green as the spring that wouldn’t arrive for months.

In fact, it would still be a few months after that--the night of their high school graduation--before anything changed between them. It was a keg party in the woods and while Cas was never much one for drinking, he’d fucking done it: finished high school. According to all the stupid songs and movies, these were supposed to be the best years of his life, but here he was drinking from a red solo cup and watching Dean with a pretty girl in a tank top on his lap. The mixed emotions churned with the too-foamy beer and eventually he’d wandered deeper into the woods to sit on a fallen log and let his stomach settle. He only vaguely registered someone approaching, but when he felt that hand on his shoulder, he knew like he knew his own name that it was Dean.

He tried to jerk away, but moving that quickly was a bad idea, and he had to let his head hang down to make things stop spinning. “Thought you were busy,” Cas said.

“Too busy for you?” Dean said with the same charm he used on the girls. “Never.”

“I won’t be your problem much longer,” Cas muttered. Dean, whose grades were nearly as good as Cas’s hadn’t bothered to apply to colleges, not even the community college two towns over.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ll be gone soon.” He tried to say it bitterly, but he found himself sagging against Dean, the warmth of him welcome despite the humid summer night.

To his surprise, Dean put an arm around him and rested his cheek on the top of Cas’s head. “I know.”

Cas let Dean hold him, let himself enjoy his nearness one last time, before pulling away. “Sorry.”

That’s when Dean kissed him, lips soft as he pressed them to Cas’s, tentative and sweet.

Cas could feel his mouth hanging open in shock when Dean leaned back to look at him, eyes filled with uncertainty. He started to pull away but Cas grabbed him by his t-shirt and hauled him back in to kiss him harder. The sounds of the party faded into the background as they made out, clinging to each other until they sat, foreheads pressed together to catch their breath.

“Dean, I--” then he was on his feet, staggering a little farther into the woods as his stomach rebelled.

It should have been enough to send Dean running in the other direction, but there he was, a gentle hand between Cas’s shoulders, speaking soft, soothing words from those lips that had just kissed Cas.

They spent every minute they could together that summer. In one sense it wasn’t hard as they were already best friends and people were used to seeing them together. That didn’t mean they could make the change in their relationship obvious, though. Statistically speaking, Cas knew there had to be other gay people in their town but he sure didn’t know of any. And while his family might eventually come to terms with it, Dean’s father was not what anyone would call tolerant.

That didn’t stop them from driving around for hours in John’s Impala, looking for places to pull over and fool around. They both had jobs and Cas, at least, had a strict curfew, but he learned the quietest ways in and out of his house while the rest of his family slept. It made them almost giddy, walking around in the middle of the night, feeling like the only two people in the entire world awake and alive. Sometimes they sat on the picnic table in the furthest dark corner of the park, just holding hands and talking softly. Sometimes they lay together, shielded from view on the back porch of a house that had sat vacant for months.

Cas had spent so much time working toward his dream of leaving this town, but now every bit of excitement he felt was stained by the anguish of leaving Dean behind. They’d wasted so much time. They talked about that moment in the snowbank, how they could’ve been together like this for months and months.

( _“Yeah, but then we wouldn’t have had that magical moment of you puking the first time I kissed you.”_

 _“You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?_ ”)

Cas never felt things as intensely as he did that summer: the glorious high of Dean’s affection, the electricity of their physical connection, the ever-present specter of their impending separation that seemed to steal the breath from his lungs.

In the middle of a hot August night with only the sounds of insects keeping them company, Cas whispered _I love you_ into the soft skin of Dean’s neck, then looked him in the eye and said it out loud. It was the first time he’d ever uttered the words in his life. He knew his family loved him, but they weren’t the type to say it, and it seemed right--sacred, almost--that this was a first he saved for Dean. He nearly got caught sneaking back into his house that night, dawn beginning to streak the sky before they could stop declaring their love long enough to say goodnight.

As the leaves began to turn and the nights grew cooler, they tried to be brave for each other. They made no promises. Cas wouldn’t ask Dean to put his life on hold and Dean, with a sad smile, once said he knew he’d never be able to hold on to Cas, not when the rest of the world had their chance with him.

When Cas left, they stayed in touch as best they could, but inevitably that tapered off.

With some distance between them, Cas worried that nothing they’d had was even real. That it was only the emotional intensity of their inevitable parting that created lightning in a bottle that summer. If they’d had nothing but time stretching before them, maybe they would have tired of each other. Maybe he would’ve been one more in Dean’s long line of companions. Still, Cas texted Dean to let him know he’d be home for winter break and they found themselves together again, like nothing had changed. Almost nothing, anyhow. Cas talked to Dean about college, about how much he was learning, how much freedom he had. He tried to get Dean to see that he deserved more for himself than just treading water in their hometown.

Year after year they fell into the same pattern. Cas would come home and he and Dean would reconnect. Always being the one to leave again, Cas let Dean set the terms. Sometimes it was mostly about sex, sometimes they only found the time to drive around, catching up.

Sometimes they still said _I love you_.

Even when he wasn’t in touch with Dean directly, Cas would get updates on his best friend’s life casually in phone calls with his mother or more pointedly in texts from Anna. There were times Cas came home knowing full well Dean had a girlfriend, but still Cas sought him out. Cas felt guilty for coming between them but the selfish desire to be with Dean, to see him and to touch him, always overrode his hesitation. He wasn’t proud of that, but when Dean still made time for him, Cas told himself their connection came first, that it was stronger and somehow more real. For a while he even believed it.

Cas came home last Christmas and, as ever, he and Dean found each other again. Maybe it was just part of Dean’s regular routine now, a ritual to mark the turning of the seasons, but things were changing for Cas, who’d be graduating soon and finding a job. No longer with spring breaks and summers off, he knew his visits back home would become less frequent. Not knowing when he’d see Dean again had him nearly as bereft as the first September he’d gone away.

They’d managed a rare interlude in a real bed, Dean with the day off while John was at work and Sam in school. With the luxury of time and comfort, they’d taken each other apart slowly, but even when they were through, Cas couldn’t stop the pounding of his heart in his chest. It emboldened him to push up on one elbow and trace the lines of Dean’s face with his fingertips.

“Come with me.”

Dean laughed. “Pretty sure I just did.”

Cas smiled. “I don’t mean that. I mean…” he swallowed, unsure. “Come back with me.” Even as he said it, he knew it was an outrageous thought. Cas had no idea how it would work, but he didn’t have it in him to keep saying goodbye.

As expected, Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I’ll just pick up and leave.”

“Why not? What’s keeping you here?” Cas knew the answer, knew Dean would never leave Sam on his own with John. Still, he pushed. “Dean, you deserve a real life of your own.”

At that, Dean sat up, tugging the sheet around his waist. “Oh, so what I have here is nothing? Wow, Cas, nice of you to climb down off your high horse now and then to roll around in the mud with me.”

His words stung like the sharp, icy snow blowing outside. “Dean, that’s not--”

“I get it, Cas. You’ve always been the smart one, always wanted more. Have you ever considered that maybe I’m happy here?”

“Are you?”

Dean worked his jaw, just for a moment but enough for Cas--familiar with his every expression, to see the hesitation there. “Yes.”

Cas knew better than to point it out, though, and tried to backtrack. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”

Dean sat up, turning his back on Cas as he reached around to find his clothes. “Just go. You always do.”

In stunned silence, Cas got dressed and left.

They hadn’t seen each other again that trip. Maybe Dean was right, maybe Cas had insulted him, maybe he’d been reading this wrong all these years. For the rest of that break, Cas was an asshole, prickly and difficult, closing himself in his room most of the time and being snippy with his family when he wasn’t.

He hadn’t realized it would be the last time he saw his father.

Cas passes the convenience store where they used to buy candy and soda. There are a handful of teenagers standing outside, laughing loudly and shoving each other, the boys clearly trying to impress the girls. Sometimes Cas can’t believe he’s well past the age where he could walk in and buy beer there, no questions asked. He turns right at the next corner, no longer pretending this hasn’t been his destination all along.

Dean was at the funeral. A lot of people were, but it was Dean’s eyes Cas could feel on him, heavy as an anchor. Cas didn’t know what to think, torn nearly apart with guilt and grief. He was back where things never changed, but this time everything was different. For years he’d thought he could keep the past as it was, somehow weaving it seamlessly into his present, but he’d been deluding himself into thinking that was possible. There was no going back, he could see that now.

Cas made it through the service, feigning attention as the words blurred together like his tear-filled vision. He held it together, holding his mother’s cold hand, eyes fixed forward steadfastly away from the casket.

Afterwards, he’d slipped outside, away from the reception where people chatted and ate cookies like it was a goddamn party. He’d barely gotten in a few lungfuls of cold air when Dean appeared, holding out Cas’s coat.

“You okay?”

It was a stupid fucking question and a part of Cas wanted to lash out at him for even asking it. But Dean had sent him away last time and Cas didn’t know what this meant, so he tamped down his first instinct. “Been better.” He took his coat, careful not to let their fingers brush.

“Yeah, I bet. Stupid question, I know. Sorry.” Dean watched as Cas put on his coat. “I mean, sorry for asking but also I’m really sorry about your dad.” Cas looked at Dean, saw his cheeks pink with the cold, saw him rub a hand at the back of his neck, and realized he was nervous to be here talking to Cas. It only served to feed the distance between them. “He was one of the good ones.”

Cas swallowed around the emotion in his throat that threatened to overwhelm him. “He was.” They stood in silence a moment. “How are you?”

Dean shrugged. “Fine. The same. You know.”

Cas turned to face him. “I’m sorry for... last time. I didn’t mean to insult you or talk down to you.”

For the first time, Dean cracked the tiniest of smiles. “It’s all good. I may have overreacted a bit.” He glanced away, looking over the full parking lot. “You weren’t wrong.”

“I was out of line,” Cas said. What he wanted to say was _I meant every word. The offer to come with me still stands._

“I gotta get to work,” Dean said. “I switched my shift to be here today. How long are you home for?”

Cas gave him a sad smile. “I fly back tomorrow.”

“Okay, well…” Before he could turn to go, Cas caught him by the sleeve.

“Thanks for being here,” Cas said and pulled him in for a hug.

Dean hugged him close. “Maybe someday we’ll get the timing right.” If Cas wasn’t mistaken he brushed his lips across Cas’s temple before he pulled away.

Today, Cas keeps walking. He’s warm enough now to unzip his winter coat and unknot the scarf at his throat. The day will soon fade but the afternoon sky is a washed out blue, clouds beginning to gather in the west. He turns down Dean’s street, feet slowing as the house gets closer.

He doesn’t know what Dean’s been up to, but he knows Sam graduated in June, heard he flew even farther than Cas, landing at Stanford. He doesn’t know if Dean’s home, doesn’t have any idea of what to say if he answers the door. The only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want to waste a single minute if Dean will have him. That _if_ is enough to have him hesitating in the corner of the yard alongside the big, snowy pine tree, remembering the times they hid in its shadows to kiss goodnight before Cas let the moonlight guide him back home.

Maybe he should text Dean first. He pulls out his phone, dismayed at how far down he has to scroll to get to their conversation, and he stops, frozen with uncertainty.

He doesn’t hear the door open, but Dean’s voice is unmistakable. “You gonna stand out there all day?” Chagrined, Cas steps fully into view. Dean’s standing in the doorway in jeans and a flannel. His feet are bare. “I’m freezing my ass off here, you coming in or what?”

This was his goal, but now face-to-face with Dean, Cas buys himself some time stomping the snow off his boots before stepping inside to take them and his coat off. He pulls off his hat, and notices with a flicker of warmth the way Dean watches him run his fingers through his hair afterwards.

“Hopeless,” Dean says, reaching out to smooth it down. The touch is there and gone again. “When’d you get back?”

“Last night,” Cas admits. It’s been less than twenty-four hours and he’s here at Dean’s door. “Look, I--”

“Come in. I’ll make us hot chocolate.”

Cas nods and follows him to the kitchen. The house looks the same as it ever has and it brings Cas a sense of peace, his own house achingly empty without his dad. Then he remembers things have changed here as well. “How’s Sam? Is he home yet?”

Dean doesn’t answer at first, filling the kettle and putting it to heat on the stove. When he looks at Cas, his eyes are hard. “Too expensive to get him back and forth, so he’s staying there.”

“Oh,” Cas says. “I’m sorry. Does he like it in California?”

“He loves it.”

“That’s great,” Cas ventures, because Dean doesn’t seem too happy about it.

“Yeah.” Dean changes the subject. “And you? How’s your job going?”

“It’s fine. It’s... whatever.” It’s a job in his field. It doesn’t exactly inspire him but it’s satisfying work that pays well enough. “My mom said you came and helped with the lights. Thank you for that.”

At that, Dean smiles. “I was happy to. She’s a nice lady and she sent me home with a giant plate of cookies.”

“Of course she did.”

“And Anna gave me a ton of shit so I know she was happy I was there.”

They catch up a bit as the water boils. Dean gets more handsome each year, the boy Cas fell in love with replaced by a man as dazzling as sunshine on a field of fresh snow. Dean fixes them each a mug, handing one to Cas. It’s just instant cocoa, the kind with the tiny marshmallows, but here in Dean’s warm house Cas doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything better.

They move to the living room, Cas waiting to see where Dean will position himself, like it will give him a clue to his mindset. His heart sinks a little when Dean sits in the armchair, leaving Cas to settle himself across from him on the couch. In the ensuing silence, Cas sips at his drink.

Dean takes a drink then presses his lips together. “Can I ask you something?”

Cas braces himself. “Anything.”

“Last Christmas. When you asked me to come with you…”

“I meant it.” He doesn’t know how to put into words that he doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with anyone but Dean. How he feels this pull, always tugging back to him whenever they’re apart. How he’s never been able to let anyone else in the way he has Dean. It’s more than the shared experience of growing up together, more than the physical release they find in each other’s bodies. It’s a true knowing of each other, one that transcends the years and the miles. He doesn’t know how to say any of that, so he adds, “I will always mean it.”

Dean narrows his eyes at him. “That’s crazy. What makes you think that could even work. This”--he waves his arm between them--”maybe this only works because you always leave again.”

“I’ve considered that,” Cas says slowly.

Dean’s not about to let him off the hook that easily. “And?”

“And I’d rather find out for sure than go through life wondering about the road not taken.” Still, Dean eyes him suspiciously. Heart pounding, Cas says. “Dean, I could find a job I could do from anywhere. I could come back here. I don’t mean for you to uproot your entire life.”

“With Sammy gone…” Dean blinks a few times, then tries again. “Now that it’s just me and my dad, I see it. You were right. I’ve been living for everyone else. There’s nothing here for me anymore.”

Cas sets down his mug and crosses to kneel in front of Dean. Looking surprised, Dean puts his mug down as well and lets Cas take both of his hands. “You deserve to be happy, whether it’s with me or somebody else.” He shakes his head. “Or nobody. Whatever comes next, I want it to be your choice.”

Dean never breaks eye contact, squeezing Cas’s hands tightly. “I was so proud of you for getting out of here. Still am. I wouldn’t ask you to come back and sneak around with me like we’ve been doing.” He takes in a deep breath. “If you really mean it, I think I’m ready to try something new.”

“I can’t keep saying goodbye to you,” Cas says.

“You have no idea,” Dean says, voice barely above a whisper. “To be here, to be left behind with all the places we were together... I miss you every goddamn day.”

Cas surges up to kiss him then, letting go of Dean’s hands to cup his face. Dean opens up to him immediately, arms wrapping around Cas’s shoulders to keep him close. When they pull apart, breathless, Dean’s eyes are shining and Cas can’t stop smiling.

“We’ll figure it out,” Cas promises.

“This is a big moment.” Dean runs his thumb across Cas’s cheekbone. “You wanna go puke or anything?”

“You’re going to hold that over my head forever, aren’t you?”

“Forever,” Dean agrees, and his smile is radiant.

“I love you,” they say at the exact same time, and then they’re both laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> In the past I have kept my non-explicit fics over at my [sconesandtextingandmurder ao3 account](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder). I may still continue to do that, but for now, life is hard and I am tired, so I've been posting everything here. 
> 
> I am [scones-and-texting-and-murder](http://scones-and-texting-and-murder.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [violethaze_ao3](https://twitter.com/ViolethazeA) on twitter.


End file.
